Rakshash Aur Rajkumari (The Devil And The Princess)

7• पीडन

Ambika stirred from her slumber to find her room draped in darkness, the absence of Rudra's presence a silent reminder of his likely whereabouts. Assuming he was outside, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed into the living room, where the only company she found was the steady rhythm of the clock's ticking. Glancing at its face, she realized it was already dinner time, a realization that stirred a faint pang of hunger within her.

Turning her attention to the kitchen, Ambika hoped to discover a meal already prepared, only to be met with devoid of any signs of food.

In that moment, a decision crystallized in her mind. Rather than waiting for Rudra to return and perhaps prepare a meal, Ambika resolved to take matters into her own hands. It had been ages since she had cooked, a fact not lost on her family members who often teased her for her apparent lack of cooking skills. Yet, their jests were unaware of the deeper truth behind her avoidance of the kitchen—a truth shrouded in a veil of darkness and pain, a memory she had long sought to suppress and bury in the depths of her being.

FLASHBACK

(⚠️TW: The flashback contains physical violence, torture and manipulation of a minor)

10 YEARS BACK

Just Ten years old, Ambika, is  standing in the heart of a kitchen, her emotional turmoil laid bare for all to see, but there was no one except him. Her tear-stained face reflects the depth of her sorrow, each droplet marking a silent testament to her inner and outer pain. Her body trembles with the weight of her emotions, every quiver a stark reminder of the magnitude of her distress. The air is thick with tension as Ambika grapples with her inner demons, her nervousness palpable in the trembling of her limbs.

Her hair, once neatly arranged, now hangs in disheveled strands around her face, a clear representation of the chaos that she went through. Each strand seems to mirror the tangled mess of her thoughts, further amplifying her sense of despair. Despite her efforts to maintain composure, Ambika's appearance betrays the depth of her suffering.

Ambika finds herself confronted by her tormentor, Lev, a teenage figure whose smirk exudes malevolence. His eyes gleam with a twisted sense of enjoyment as he observes her suffering, reveling in the power he holds over her. With a malicious grin playing upon his lips, Lev takes pleasure in witnessing Ambika's anguish, finding delight in the tears that stain her cheeks. To him, her distress is not only entertaining but intoxicating, fueling his sadistic desires. As Ambika stands defenseless before him, trapped in a web of fear and helplessness, Lev's satisfaction only grows, his appetite for her vulnerability is insatiable. In this harrowing moment, Ambika realizes that she is facing a relentless predator who takes pleasure in her pain, leaving her with nowhere to escape.

In a swift movement Ambika finds herself trapped beneath the cruel grip of Lev. With a vicious yank, he pulls her by the hair, forcing her down onto the unforgiving surface of the table. The air thickens with tension as Lev's predatory gaze locks onto her trembling form, his lips curling into a sinister smirk as he leans in closer, his intentions unmistakable.

"My sweet little dumb wh*re"

A shiver of dread courses through Ambika's body as she realizes the danger looming inches from her. With each whimper and cry that escapes her lips, she fights desperately against the suffocating grip of fear that threatens to consume her.

As Lev's hand delivers a vicious blow to Ambika's butt, a searing pain radiates across her buttcheek, spreading like wildfire through her senses. In that agonizing moment, every nerve in her body ignites with a white-hot intensity, amplifying the intensity of her suffering.

The sharp sting of the impact reverberates through her skull, leaving behind a throbbing ache that pulses in rhythm with her racing heartbeat. Tears well up in her eyes, not just from the physical agony, but from the crushing weight of humiliation and helplessness.